Sightless Streams of Sound and Soul
by Momonster
Summary: Mercverse Fic!Memories on Maser-waves; A life before happiness. A Life during anger, peace, battle, contentment, and blood. A life of Change.


Prologue story:

Chapter One: Mercenary

"_**You need something done… someone killed? I can do it for you… for a price of course."**_

The bell to the door on my home twinkled, and I looked up from the dull gleam of my blade, raising an eyebrow with a tilt of my head moments later.

The gleaming white robes of a Priestess stood at my doorway, the hood raised to hide her face from me had bells of alarm ringing in the back of my head, though the symbol I could see on the side of the hood stopped me from raising my weapon.

Why would a Cetra Priestess be here? Such a place as my neighborhood is dangerous…

She glided closer, and I soon realized just why this woman could come to my shop so easily.

I didn't need to see her face; having known this woman long enough to recognize her by scent and aura alone.

And the sight of the pure white wings that arched behind her back, the transparent limbs hovering an inch from her spine once the light of the sun came upon her body.

With a soft sigh I shifted my buster sword from my lap to the ground while standing slowly, respectfully bowing.

"You have news for me, Lady?"

For this woman was a Lady of such stature enough that even _I_ respected her place.

High Priestess; Lady Aerith of the Gainsborough Clan, the heir to the Priestess Hood of the Ancient Lands.

A Cetra who has lived long enough, grown powerful enough to become Blessed.

For all those ignorant to her rank … she's basically an angel in mortal's flesh. And once she died - naturally or not - she'd ascend.

The young woman clasped her hands together before her chest while she bowed her head, and I could sense … _something_ else rise through her. _**"You're time of hiding is nearly over, Son of Strife."**_

I tensed, hand curling into a fist.

She was merely a vassal standing before me then; the speaker for the Goddess.

"_**You lost everything to Betrayal and Fire centuries ago; but soon, one of dual blood and soul will be born; the last of Your new Family."**_

I grit my teeth, sitting back in my seat while tilting my head, hair shifting so it blocked my sight of her. "I've given up on happiness."

Given up on a family, on living peacefully with the battle and strife that followed my every step. The very blood pumped through my veins twisted my soul in two different paths, calling for battle/peace, hatred/protection, bloodshed/home.

"I've given up on peace." The moment the words left my mouth, I felt a sad sigh echo around me, like a puff of hair against the back of my neck.

"_**Well then, now You have a choice."**_ Aerith continued gently. _**"For this last member is the one who will open your Heart; They have yet to be born. But once They will … They will need your help. Help Them, and allow the Light that is your Birthright to rejoin your Heart once more …or Forsake Them, and your Family will die, because You are Their Savior."**_

Light that is my birthright? After all the lives I've taken, after the bloodshed that pooled upon Gaia, tainting Her skin; my birthright is _Light?_

I shot the woman a glare. Aerith didn't seem to respond to the look, but I got a feeling of smug amusement from her.

"_**Save them or not. Help the World or not. You will be drawn out of this hole You created soon, but whether You are calm, or kicking and screaming, is up to You."**_

The door snapped open, and I felt a power I hadn't tasted in years blow through the room.

"…Goddess."

I felt hands gently curl through my hair; a hand cup my cheek.

_Will you reject my gift, child?_

I shuddered, and then looked back up.

Only my disheveled room and the door flapping in the breeze gazed back.

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><p><em>A gift is a sign of goodwill, you know? Most don't have deception on their mind when they give a truly serious gift … unless you are the target of deep animosity. But you, a King, no matter how kind and just to his people, always has enemies … even a Majesty such as yourself, am I right, My Lord?<em>

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><p><em>:3<em>


End file.
